Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 567 Blockade (Part 4)

The setting sun, like blood, bathed the rough earthen walls and simple wooden roofs of Concepción in an even deeper hue, as if the entire city were shrouded in an ominous crimson.

On the sea outside the mouth of the Biobio River, the last wisp of smoke was slowly dissipating with the rising evening breeze, like the weary panting of a giant beast after a battle.

The thunderous cannon fire that had lasted all afternoon finally subsided before nightfall, leaving only a deathly silence.

This sudden silence was even more unsettling than the previous clamor, weighing heavily on the hearts of every soldier and civilian in the city.

The atmosphere inside the two-story stone building of the Royal Prosecutor's Office branch, next to the city center square, was so heavy it was almost suffocating.

On the heavy oak table, the flame of a tallow candle flickered uneasily, illuminating several stern-faced individuals.

Colonel Pedro de Saavedra, the military and political commander of Concepción, leaned forward, his hands gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the effort.

He was about forty years old, his face etched with wrinkles from the hardships of the frontier, and his gray eyes revealed an unspeakable anxiety and shock.

Several important local colonial officials and military officers sat around the table: Antonio de Figueroa, a serious-looking middle-aged man in a black robe; Diego Álvarez, the militia captain, a burly, dark-skinned native white rancher; and Major Antonio de Molina, the port garrison captain who had just rushed in from the port.

"Is it confirmed? Only three ships escaped into the river mouth?" Colonel Savedra's voice was hoarse, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.

“Yes, Colonel.” Major Molina swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Only three ships attempted to reach the estuary… one of them, the ‘San Lorenzo,’ I saw its silhouette, it… it was almost completely destroyed, the mainmast was broken, the sails were burned to shreds, it’s a miracle it made it this far!”

"The other two are in slightly better condition, but they are also badly damaged. However, the worst case is the 'Hope'. It... it panicked and ran aground in the old river channel, right under our noses!"

Major Molina's voice was filled with regret and helplessness, "You know, we lit several bonfires on the dock and used every torch we could find to guide us, but it still... sigh!"

Judge Figueroa took a deep breath and tapped his fingertips lightly on the table: "Any news of Fleet Commander General Ovinella? Or has the flagship 'Verax' seen anything...?"

Major Molina shook his head: "No, sir. At the height of the gunfire, we could see at least three or four enemy ships patrolling outside the river mouth. They were moving so fast, like sharks in the sea... and our ships seemed... seemed to be completely suppressed."

The room fell silent once again.

The only sounds were the crackling of oil lamps burning on the walls and the faint barking of dogs coming from the distant residential area.

A task force of more than ten warships, the kingdom's much-anticipated reinforcements and counterattack force, crossed two oceans of raging winds and waves, overcame various diseases and psychological despair, and finally arrived at the seas they should have controlled. What awaited them was a meticulously planned and brutal massacre.

Alvarez slammed his fist on the table, making the wooden table shake violently: "Those damned Chinese! What are they doing here?! Shouldn't they be fighting the army from the Viceroyalty of New Spain in Mexico? What are they doing in this remote frontier fortress? Did those Araukan savages give them gold to come and attack us?"

His voice was filled with anger and incomprehension, which represented the thoughts of most Spaniards in the city.

Concepción was a fortress built for land warfare; its wealth and significance lay in its land and military presence, not in trade, and it had no coveted riches to attract pirates from afar—at least that's what they thought until today.

Colonel Savedra straightened up, walked to the window with iron bars, and looked out at the city gradually being enveloped by night.

Scattered lights moved across the streets, belonging to worried citizens and soldiers who were increasing their patrols.

He could even sense the unease permeating the city.

“Why are they here?” Savedra repeated Alvarez’s question, his voice low. “Now the reason is clear. They weren’t invited by the Araucanians; they’re here for General Ovinilla’s task force.”

“They waited here for more than twenty days, like the most patient hunters waiting for their prey to walk into the trap. We...we all became part of their bait without even realizing it.”

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. "They knew all along that this fleet would come, and they calculated that they would head straight for Concepción, the most important port in the south. Gentlemen, what does that mean?"

Judge Figueroa's face grew even more grim, and he subconsciously straightened his already impeccably tailored collar: "This means that our ranks may have been infiltrated, or... there may be some major development in New Spain or even Peru that we are completely unaware of, allowing the enemy to have a clear grasp of our fleet's movements. Oh God, this is terrible!"

“Now is not the time to dwell on this issue.” Savedra took a deep breath and regained his decisiveness as a military commander. “The immediate priority is to deal with the current crisis and properly settle the two ships that have entered the port and the stranded ‘Hope’.”

"Immediately declare martial law at the port, double the manpower at all coastal defense positions, and be on guard against enemy night attacks. Immediately organize manpower, using small boats and soldiers familiar with the water, to rescue the survivors on the 'Hope' and save as many wounded and important supplies as possible. Also, bring the officers and sailors from the warships here; I need to know the details of the naval battle as soon as possible."

"Oh, right, and the whereabouts of General Ovinella, and... the exact size and combat strength of the enemy fleet."

The order was quickly relayed, and the entire city of Concepción was like an anthill disturbed. Although in a state of panic, its long-term wartime conditions allowed it to react quickly on instinct.

Soldiers and militiamen quickly took up defensive positions, and the bonfires in the harbor burned even brighter, their flickering light illuminating the two battered warships on the river.

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, many people had already gathered on the walls and at the port of Concepción.

With heavy hearts, people looked towards the lower reaches of the Biobio River, the sea where fierce battles had once taken place, and the "Hope" ship that had unfortunately run aground.

Its massive hull tilted and sank into the mudflats at the river mouth, less than a chain's length from the shore.

The entire hull was riddled with shocking holes, broken cables hung down like seaweed, the deck was a mess, and several abandoned cannons pointed crookedly at the sky.

Fortunately, thanks to the strenuous rescue efforts of the militia and port sailors last night, most of the people on board were safely transferred to shore.

"Look! The river mouth!... It's a ship belonging to Xinhua people!"

Suddenly, someone pointed in the direction of the river mouth and let out a high-pitched exclamation.

Following the sound, everyone looked and saw two sleek Xinhua warships quietly entering the river mouth at a steady yet imposing speed.

Although traces of battle can be seen on their hulls, they are more agile and nimble than the stranded "Hope".

The red flag on the mast fluttered in the morning breeze, burning into the eyes of every Spaniard.

"All alert!"

"Ready to fight!"

The commander's desperate shouts echoed across the city walls and the port. Soldiers and militiamen immediately went into defensive positions, and more than ten cannons were slowly adjusted to fire at the river mouth.

The two Xinhua warships calmly adjusted their course, opening the gun ports on their sides one by one to reveal the dark muzzles inside.

"What are they planning to do? Are they preparing to attack Concepción?" A young militiaman gripped an old-fashioned matchlock gun, his voice filled with anger and a hint of tension.

A gray-bearded veteran with a gruesome scar on his face from years of fighting the Araukan people spat and said bitterly, "Fools! They're here to show off! They're flaunting their strength, telling us they can come and go as they please!"

Before he finished speaking, the side of the Xinhua warship suddenly spewed out dazzling flames and thick white smoke.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!..." The thunderous sound of cannons once again shattered the tranquility of Concepción in the early morning.

However, their target was not the port, but the "Hope" ship that was stranded on the shore.

Huge solid iron balls whistled as they crashed into their defenseless opponents, producing a dull and terrifying impact.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and the ship's structure groaned in pain under the continuous blows. Larger holes were drilled open, and seawater rushed in at an accelerated pace.

The Spanish soldiers and civilians on the shore stared in disbelief at the near-execution-like shelling, their hearts filled with anger, humiliation, and a deep-seated sense of powerlessness.

The sailors of the Hope, who were resting in the makeshift camp, closed their eyes in anguish, their bodies trembling uncontrollably with fear and anger.

The deafening roar of cannons dragged them back into the nightmarish memories of yesterday's naval battle.

“Merciful God…please send down your thunderbolts to punish these blasphemous heretics…” a naval lieutenant with a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his arm murmured to himself.

The shelling lasted less than half an hour, but it felt like an eternity.

When the smoke cleared, the Hope was completely unrecognizable. The ship was severely tilted and eventually capsized slowly in the murky river water under the watchful eyes of hundreds of soldiers and civilians on the shore. Only a small part of the broken hull and mast base were left above the water, like an abrupt tombstone.

After carrying out this cold-blooded "execution," the two Xinhua warships didn't even glance at the angry crowd on the shore. They gracefully adjusted their sails, swaggered out of the river mouth with the receding tide, and disappeared into the distant horizon.

They used the most direct and cruel methods to declare who the new masters of this sea area are.

In the conference room of the prosecution and trial court, Judge Figueroa paced back and forth excitedly, roaring like a trapped bull.

His face flushed with rage, his usual composure long gone: "Damn it, those infidels sank our stranded warships right in front of us! And we could only watch like cowards. What about our coastal defense guns? Are they just for show?... Why didn't they fire?!"

Major Molina, the port garrison commander, gave a wry smile: "Sir, the distance is too far. Our coastal defense artillery... can't reach them. Firing blindly would be pointless except for wasting precious ammunition and exposing our gun positions."

Colonel Savedra's face was ashen. He did not participate in the argument, but instead turned his gaze to the clerks who had just finished their questioning.

They held in their hands a thick stack of records of the battle, which they had just dictated from the crew.

“How bad is the situation?” Savedra’s voice was unusually calm.

Clerk Junior took a deep breath, as if needing extra courage to state the facts: "Colonel, it's bad, worse than we all imagined."

"According to Captain Cabrera of the San Lorenzo and surviving officers of the Valiant, the task force led by General Ovinella... may have suffered a devastating blow."

He paused, flipping through the records: "The battle was one-sided. The Xinhua warships were extremely fast, and their maneuverability against the wind far surpassed ours. They formed two columns, always staying at the edge of our effective firing range, repeatedly bombarding our formation with precise and rapid artillery fire."

"And our warships... are slow-moving, have a slow rate of fire, and their counterattacks are scattered and weak, like... like a herd of bison struggling under a shotgun."

"Oh, boarding action? No, they couldn't even get close. The Xinhua ships maintained a hopelessly high distance, using their speed and range advantage to easily shred any vessel that tried to approach..."

Junior's voice was low and heavy: "Captain Cabrera said that he personally witnessed the San Pedro being extremely unfortunate enough to be hit in the ammunition magazine by a shell, which caused a violent explosion, broke it in two, and sank rapidly."

"The Santa Clara was hit by several bullets near the waterline, severely damaged and listing, and was eventually forced to abandon ship... As for the flagship Veracruz, it was severely damaged in the middle of the battle, communication was lost, and its whereabouts are unknown. I'm afraid... its situation is not good."

Silence fell in the room again, broken only by Alvarez's heavy breathing.

"Can you confirm how many ships escaped?" Savedra pressed.

The clerk glanced at the record and replied with difficulty, "According to the recollections of several officers, in the later stages of the battle, when the formation was completely broken up and everyone was fleeing, about ten ships fled to the north or west, and a few others fled to the south with the wind. But... Xinhua warships were pursuing them."

"Given the enemy's absolute advantage in speed and maneuverability, how many ships will ultimately escape the pursuit...may depend on a miracle, as well as the unpredictable 'favor' of the ocean itself."

Colonel Savedra fell silent.

This means that of the seventeen warships in the task force, only the two heavily damaged and almost combat-ineffective ships in front of us, and a few others that might escape the pursuit by luck and the cover of night, may survive.

This was a disaster comparable to, or even surpassing, the disastrous defeats of the Drake era in England, and it happened in the Pacific Ocean, which Spain called its "inland lake," right on its own doorstep.

Colonel Saavedra walked to the roughly drawn map of the west coast of South America on the wall, his gaze falling on the mark representing Concepción, then slowly moving towards the vast Pacific Ocean, finally settling on the distant direction of Mexico.

"The Chinese sailors traveled thousands of miles across the sea to come here, not to plunder a few of our coastal towns," he said, as if talking to himself, or as if giving a final footnote to this disaster. "They came to completely annihilate all of our naval forces and break the backbone of the Kingdom's maritime support to the Americas. I must admit, they... succeeded."

He turned abruptly, his eyes sharp and resolute: "Gentlemen, the reality is before us. If the new Chinese continue to remain in the nearby waters, then Concepción will now be a truly isolated city. Our connection with Santiago and even Lima will be severed, and our supply lines from the north will be in grave danger."

"Moreover, who can guarantee that after completely gaining control of this sea area, these new Chinese will not gather their forces and launch a decisive landing attack on our Concepción? The level of organization and combat capability they have demonstrated cannot be underestimated by us in the slightest!"

He looked at Alvarez: "Diego, mobilize all the militia immediately and inspect all weapons stockpiles. From today onward, we must prepare for a prolonged naval blockade and a possible fierce land attack."

He then looked at Judge Figueroa: "Antonio, immediately select the most reliable messengers who are most familiar with the routes, not just one team, but several, on different routes, and send them to Santiago as quickly as possible to report everything that has happened here to the Chilean governor."

"It's not just about the news of the fleet's destruction; it's about emphasizing the isolation we face and the potential danger of being attacked from both land and sea. We need reinforcements, we need supplies, and more importantly, we need to understand the overall situation facing the entire colony and even the governorate!"

Finally, his gaze fell on Major Molina and the clerk: "All the surviving sailors and soldiers on those three ships, after receiving basic treatment and rest, should be immediately reorganized, armed, and added to our city's defenses."

"They have personally experienced battles with the enemy, and their experience, even if it came at the cost of crushing defeats and the blood of their comrades, is invaluable to us."

As orders were issued one after another, the entire machine of Concepción, a city born for war, began to operate at an unprecedented level of tension.

Sadness, anger, and fear were temporarily suppressed, replaced by a profound sense of crisis.

Several messengers, carrying letters detailing the fleet's destruction and the perilous situation in Concepción, rushed out of the city gates under the escort of a small cavalry unit, and sped away along the rugged path leading north.

They needed to deliver this devastating news to the central government of the Chilean colony as quickly as possible.

Colonel Savedra walked to the window again, gazing at the vast and unfamiliar land outside the city.

The distant Andes Mountains remain snow-capped, silent and eternal.

A deeper worry lingered in his mind: would the Araukan people in the south unite with these new Chinese?

The empire’s southern frontier seems to be embroiled in crisis once again.
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(End of this chapter)